


All Strung Up

by PippinPips



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Angst, Frottage, Hanging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PippinPips/pseuds/PippinPips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst trying to save Archer, Guy gets a brush that is a little too close for someone's opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Strung Up

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, sorry for the mistakes, they are entirely on me.

In the midst of the chaos the horse Guy sat atop inevitably spooked. He had tried to keep it in place, however, with his hands bound behind his back it was an impossible task. It wasn’t long before the horse reared and thrashed beneath him to only just shoot out like an arrow from a bow. He dropped, losing sight of the horse as it slipped into the crowd, and the rope tightened. He wrenched his arms against his back straining to get his hands up to his neck, yet no matter how much he struggled there was no way he could rip the rope away. Pain ripped along his strained shoulders and his legs thrashed in midair. If he’d been thinking clearly he would know it took longer than he was to die. He had been the one to watch the men as they swung.

Guy opened his mouth, maybe it was to let out a scream, but instead only a whooshing gasping noise emitted from it. It was there he would die. He’d never thought it would end that way, Guy had always imagined swords being involved, yet his mind couldn’t comprehend any of it. Instead all he could think was: air, air, air, air. Spots had begun to form, Guy had no idea how long he was hanging in midair, body thrashing in hopes that one move would give him at least one feeble gasp of air. There was no white light, there was nothing but a burn in his chest from the lack of air and the pain from where his body weight was crushing his throat.

He could no longer hear the noise of the crowd the white noise in his own ears clouded everything, for all he knew—if he could’ve been thinking properly—Robin had cut his losses (Archer surely had). Above him there was a twack before his knees crashed into the ground. Guy just barely turned his head in time before his face smacked hard against the ground. Dirt and rocks dug into his skin as he sucked in a dry and rattled breath. It burned to even usher a little bit of air into his lungs, but he couldn’t stop his body trying to regain every bit it had lost.

Hands rubbed down his back before they released his hands, which fell limply to his side and only to flop to his sides as his savior pushed him onto his back. Guy stared up dazedly as whoever it was yanked the noose from him. The hands were cold as they brushed against his enflamed throat. Guy reached up weakly to bat them away but they just continued ignoring his feeble attempts. Slowly he regained the ability to focus and as he did, he saw that it was Robin leaning over him eyes wide and searching.

“You all right there Gisborne?” Robin asked, his voice was low and Guy almost missed it completely if not for the fact that Robin was very close to his face. There was something in the set up that was off though, as much as Guy appreciated the nearness there was still the fact of Robin using his last name. He tried to remember what happened right before he had nearly died. He vaguely remembered the noose being placed over his neck, sitting on horse and then—Guy frowned—he was having troubles remembering anything more.

“Robin!” someone shouted. Guy didn’t give a damn who it was, for a moment, but then it hit him. Their half-brother, they were in public, people could see them. He tried to scramble away but his limbs weren’t reacting quite as quickly as they should and instead Robin was there to help him stumble to stand. He only wavered a moment before his balance was righted.

“Let’s get you to the horse,” Robin murmured. Guy very nearly cursed the thing, but he was sure that if he spoke it would only hurt more. Instead they searched around the village; Guy slowly regained his strength up until they ran into Robin’s gang, with the horses of course. Guy would wonder about their luck, but it happened so often he was fairly certain that was just how the world worked. Robin and his little gang of outlaws were on the right side of fate, always. Archer was somewhere behind them, but for that moment Guy could not find it in him to care about the boy. Maybe later, though he hadn’t been as raring to go as Robin, and Robin knew exactly why he had followed.

Robin was speaking again, but to Archer instead of Guy. There were a few words exchanged—not that Guy was even really paying attention he had firmly settled his gaze on the horse in front of them, the one he was going to use and eyed it for a good few moments. He watched just long enough to see as Archer settled on the back of the very horse and took off.

“That’s my horse,” Guy commented finally and regretted the moment he did. He sounded rough and ragged, plus his entire throat was bruised and aching. The vibrations from speaking did him no favors. Though behind him, Robin’s group snickered a little—enjoying his dilemma as only ex-foes could.

“Someone will have to double up then,” Robin stated. He had tried to keep his words nonchalant, but Guy could tell what it was exactly Robin had wanted.

“I’m not riding with him!” Kate screeched from the back.

“You’re the lightest one!” someone reminded her, which only led her onto another screeching fit about how Guy had killed her brother—which to be fair he had but it wasn’t as if it had been something he forgot thus being reminded of his indiscretions had begun to wear thin.

“I guess I could,” Allan spoke up somewhere from the group. At his side Robin stiffened for a brief few moments before he turned on his heel. He let out a long suffering sigh, as if he were sacrificing something.

“No need Allan. I’ll do it.” If it didn’t ache to, Guy would’ve snorted. However, he did roll his eyes at the entire affair. If Robin’s gang had no idea what they got up to there was no hope for them.

“You sure?” Much asked. Robin let out another huff of air that time an actual one of irritation.

“Yes, Much, I am sure. Now let’s go, we’re still wanted here.”

Robin was the first to climb up; he swung his leg over the horse and then leaned down offering a hand to Guy. Normally Guy would take the chance to comment that he was no fair lady, instead he rolled his eyes and grimaced before he placed his foot into the stirrup. Once settled behind Robin, Guy took a moment to wrap his arms tightly around the other man’s waist. Just as Guy was about to let go, Robin reached down and rubbed his hand. He kept it there warm hand against Guy’s up until it would be time for someone to see, it’s then he snapped his hand away and grabbed for the reigns. Guy kept his arms tight around Robin, and when no one sent him suspicious or confused glances he let out a sigh of relief. The movement itself tugged at his bruised throat. If they were alone, he would have placed his brow on Robin’s shoulder—allowed himself a moment of rest—but his men weren’t to know. Instead, Guy kept his head up and watched as the made their way from York.

 

*

 

The entire ride, the only thing Robin could think of was the way Guy had looked. In those brief few moments everything had gone cold in him, the world had slowed as he notched the arrowed he had been given and up until he had let it loose. When Guy had dropped to the ground he had still felt the chill of worry and uncertainty until the ex-knight had looked at him. He had been so close to losing Guy, something that he would’ve wanted nothing more than in the beginning. However, things changed.

The weight of Guy’s body against him was comforting for the moment, to feel that he was indeed alive and on the back of the horse with him soothed his nerves a little Not enough that he thought he could ever forget the image of Guy with the rope around his neck and eyes begging for someone to not let him die that way. Robin swallowed hard, his hands shook like leaves along his reigns. Eventually Guy released one arm from his waist and held his wrist. It was a small gesture, but it anchored him enough to make the rest of the ride back to where they were going to set up camp.

They were halfway towards home, but everyone involved had been far too tired to make the entire trek and their horses were even worse for the wear. They settled down a small distance from the path, close enough that they can keep a decent eye on the comings and goings. Much and Tuck were the first off the horses, scouting the area before the rest of them joined. Robin kept at Guy’s side, there was still a tremble in the ex-knight’s movements and he looked pale. Plus the longer he stayed near Guy the longer he kept the images of what could’ve happened to him at bay. It felt like every moment he let his eyes fall shut the image was burned into the shadows. He’d seen his fair share of hangings; it had been a strange form of entertainment and a way to show that he wasn’t a chicken. He knew what they looked like.

“Much, go find us some food,” Robin commanded. His friend looked for a moment as if he was going to argue, but whatever fight he had in him took flight the second his mouth opened. Then there was Kate, the second she had set foot off of her steed she stood almost as close to Robin as he did Guy, her lashes fluttering—reminding him she had kissed him. Robin wanted to forget that as well. The only _woman_ he had ever loved was Marian, and she was long gone. “See if you can find some edible vegetation,” Robin barked to her. She gave him a look that was mixed with shock and irritated, yet she did it. With a huff and a growl she did it, and Robin immediately returned his attention to where Guy had slowly moved from him and settled near the fire.

“You all right?” Allan asked him. Guy didn’t respond verbally, but from the way Allan just bobbed his head and went on back to his business it felt as if there was a sense of understanding between the two men. It made Robin want to swoop down to wrap arms protectively around Guy, except he wouldn’t be able to explain to his men why he did all those things. He and guy were not supposed to be that close—not yet. He shifted from side to side his agitation clear to anyone who was watching.

“Tuck do you have anything with you?” Robin blurted out. The monk paused for a good few moments, his hands hovered over the sticks he had been preparing.

“Of course Robin, I didn’t have an idea of what condition you two would be in,” Tuck answered. Robin nodded, his gaze flickered back over to Guy. Within the new flickers of firelight, Robin could see the red ring around his neck.

“Gisborne, come with me.” Allan and Tuck stopped to watch them. It must have looked so strange for them, but without word—probably due to the damage to his throat—Guy pushed from the ground and moved towards him. “Won’t be long,” Robin promised.

Robin took them in a direction away from the camp and away from where he had sent both Much and Kate. He just needed some peace and quiet, and once they were far enough away, Robing turned back around with a whirl. Immediately his hands stroked along Guy’s face touching the skin before they slid down to brush against the ring of red. A shudder moved through his body.

So close. His mind whispered. He’d lost so much, so many things all had fallen away from him. He clutched tightly at Guy’s clothing. He didn’t want to lose this. Whatever it was with Guy he wanted to hold tightly to this.

“You nearly died,” he whispered.

“I have before.” Guy sounded like hell. “Survived that too.” Robin knew all of that; a few times he had been the one to almost kill Guy. That had been before, before all of this. Robin wanted to pull the clothes away from Guy’s body to make sure it wasn’t some vision—he’d had those a few weeks after Marian. He pressed forward, unable to help himself, and kissed Guy hard. Fingers dug into Guy’s biceps, with a bruising force, as if his holding onto Guy even tighter would mean he’d never have to let go.

Robin only retreated for air, and once he got at least one gulp of it—a guilty pang slammed into his chest—he pressed forward, his lips brushed against the corner of Guy’s lips while his fingers threaded through the scraggly locks. A night in the dungeons hadn’t been fair to it.

“The thought,” Robin began, but somewhere in the distance a twig snapped. Whoever it was, was heading for them. Guy released him first, aware of the secret they held and more cautious of it. But, all Robin wanted to do was throw his hands in frustration and tell whoever it was to get out. However, in the midst of his irritation he thought of the Sheriff of York’s men. How they couldn’t just let them be or how Isabella wouldn’t let them go so easily. For a split second the woods lost their safety and became ominous just like all the stories that had been told of them. “We should get back to camp.” Guy made no disagreement, he merely followed after his footsteps slow and even.

By the time they made it back to the temporary camp, Much already had a rabbit on the spit and Tuck was helping Kate put together some of the other berries and vegetation together. It appeared to be a full meal for the night. Robin glanced over towards Guy, he should’ve thought about how the meal would affect their injured member.

“You two find anything?” Allan asked.

“There might be someone else in the forest, so we better keep an eye out,” Robin said immediately.

“How many?” Little John spoke up for the first time, he sent a distrustful glance Guy’s.

“Only sounded like one, but we’ll just have to be careful,” Robin replied. He stepped between John and Guy, “and work as a team. John made no accusations, but there was no need not with the history between the entire group. “Gisborne was with me, and he made no move to hail them, and he would’ve had ample time.”

“I’m not pointing any fingers,” Allan said raising his hands up. There is nothing else said on that matter.

 

*

 

Guy swung in the wind, his legs hadn’t moved in ages. A simple and easy to and fro, back and forth. Like a pendulum. His hands were prone at his sides as the wind moved him. A hand a more feminine one wrapped around Robin’s shoulder, holding him in place.

“It seems one would do without loving you,” Marian whispered in his ear. “We end up doing stupid things for you.”

“Are you blaming me for your death?” Robin asked softly. He often enough blamed himself the the whole thing. If only he had been quicker or smarter.

“I think the three of us are to blame, but the blood is on his hands. It’s not on yours. Neither of ours is.”

“He survived,” Robin whispered harshly. “I saved him!”

“Are you sure?” Marian asked. She nodded her head towards Guy, where he was still hanging. Robin followed her gaze only to find Guy staring at him. “He looks like he might be joining me for our wait. Two lovers, aren’t you lucky Robin? We’ll be waiting for you.”

“He killed you,” Robin whispered.

“And now you’re bedding him, how interesting the tides turn,” Marian hummed. “Did you mourn me?”

“Daily,” Robin answered immediately. “You are the only woman I could ever love.”

“But not the only person.”

“No, and you’re not my Marian.”

“I’m what’s left of her. After your guilt and his,” she nodded to Guy, “took away whatever I had. You wanted Guy before I died and it eats at you, the knowledge, but Robin. I am okay with this. Just live. Fight for England and love if that is what gets you through the day.”

Robin shot awake, the air trapped in his lung shooting out. He looked around the camp most were sleeping even Allan who had been designated to night watch. Normally Robin would be irritated by the whole affair; however, he was more worried that his dream had spoken the truth that he had lost Guy. Diving forward, one of Robin’s knees crashed into Guy’s leg. He barely registered the grunt Guy gave off his hands too busy touching everything they could.

“Robin?” Guy’s voice was still hoarse and he looked mussed from sleep.

“Clothes off!” Robin demanded frantically. He had to see, the scars he had yet to memorize, everything. Guy fought off his hands as he shifted beneath Robin’s weight.

“Not here,” Guy hissed. He casted a glance around the camp, his intention clear. Not where they could see. Robin nodded.

“Come on then,” he demanded, pulling at Guy’s clothing. He needed to see Guy he needed to touch him more fully to just tell himself that Guy was still alive. They stumbled through the underbrush at speeds that would make anyone think that they were being chased by hell hounds. Robin didn’t stop until he was sure they were far enough away, and once he was he cupped at Guy’s neck. They could hardly see anything in the darkness of woods—only a few slivers of light made it through the branches. That didn’t matter, Robin could feel Guy. He couldn’t see what exactly he was pulling at but he knew the second he had Guy shirtless.  His fingers skated over the warm skin and relief settled into his bones. Alive.

Robin leaned down; he brushed his lips against the smoothness of Guy’s chest, though he’s almost certain that the hiss Guy let out was more from the sensation of his beard against the tender flesh, rather than him just kissing. Still Robin didn’t stop; he pressed mouth down along Guy’s chest making a trail all the way down to the top of his breeches.

“Alive,” Robin gasped. Guy’s hands grabbed onto his hair, pulling him back up. Still too dark to see properly they ran into each other’s noses a couple of times. But eventually, Robin’s lips meld with Guy’s and stopping was the last thing on his mind.

Hands grasp and scrabble for purchase on each other’s bodies. There was desperation in Robin’s hands; they trembled as they touched Guy. “I dreamt of failure,” he whispered reverently.

“You’re Robin Hood,” Guy began, “you never fail.” He wanted to brush it off to laugh and agree.

“I only fail when it matters to most.”

“Marian,” Guy supplied.

“Yes, and it could’ve been you,” Robin reminded him. “I can’t let it be you.” If his grip had become too bruising Guy made no comment. Instead he had begun to pull at Robin’s top as well almost as if he too needed the touch of skin. They stood there for a few moments hands just on one another and not yet moving.

“I am not going anywhere, not yet,” Guy promised. There was something about not making promises that you couldn’t keep on the tip of Robin’s tongue, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He did however push Guy up against the nearest tree instead. Pressing his lips against the column of Guy’s throat, Robin tried to get as close as he could. His leg shifted between Guy’s, his knee brushed against the bark.

“Don’t,” he whispered. Robin slid his hand down to the front of Guy’s pant and twisted the ties around his fingers.

“Yes,” Guy mouthed against his shoulder, head dipped down. He nipped at Robin’s flesh. The drag of his teeth sent a curl of pleasure down along his spine. There was part of Robin that wished they could be back at Locksley where the bed was, where he could pin his lover against the floor and ravage him whilst reaffirming he was indeed still alive, still fine.

One of Robin’s hands found the mark from the rope and Guy gave off a pained hiss. They jumped back from one another, just a few bare increments of space between them. Though Guy couldn’t see it, Robin’s eyes were wide worried that he’d somehow made it all worse. “Just watch it,” Guy growled. They came back together, chests pressing against each other giving the only warmth to be had in the chilled forest.

Somewhere, on the forest floor there was a branch or a root—Robin honestly didn’t know—his foot however found it. Both men hit the ground hard. Guy between Robin’s splayed legs with his knee under Robin’s thigh. Before Guy could get back up, Robin pulled him back down, kissing him hard. He tangled his hands in the black hair as his tongue swept along Guy’s bottom lip begging for entrance. Guy opened to him readily; kissing him like it was the only thing he wanted. The sensation of being wanted not just as Robin Hood, not just as the Earl of Locksley but as Robin, it was addicting. He arched his hips upwards, his feet scrambled to get some sort of leverage to push up, to get some sort of friction.

Guy let out a groan of frustration.

“Let’s just,” Robin grabbed for Guy’s shoulders—at least where he thought they were—and helped him shift over. Guy braced on his forearms and then shifted. A spark lit up along Robin’s skin and pooled in his belly. He shifted up, gathering his legs beneath him and rocked up against Guy. The movement pulled a groan out of Guy—hoarse sounding but a noise that made Robin want to pin him down and take him rough.

It was too late for that, too dark for them to do much other than rut against each other until they were shaking. Robin’s limbs were starting to quiver underneath his weight and Guy’s, but he needed the release. He gripped hard at Guy’s shoulders, pulling the other man hard on top of him before shifting his legs. Their thighs brushed as they moved against one another searching for it. Shoving his hand down the front of Guy’s pants, Robin clumsily searched for his straining cock in the darkness.

He wished for the firelight of the camp to be able to see as the light from the flames flicker against Guy’s skin. Leaning up, he dragged his teeth against chilled skin if only to illicit the groan he knew would rip from Guy’s mouth. With his hand wrapped tightly around Guy’s erection he flicked his thumb over the head, collecting the precum.

Guy dipped his head down buried against his shoulder as he hitched his hips trying to get more friction.

“To see you,” Robin groaned as Guy’s movements shifted against his own cock. He was building up and he could feel the very same in Guy. He felt his lover’s cock twitch in his hand as it spilled all over his hand and the pants it was confined it, and Guy’s release was almost enough to send Robin over the edge. Just two more arches towards Guy’s thigh and he spilt.

They breathed harshly, the edges of sleep creeping along them. Robin knew from experience that Guy would be blink away the sleep, trying to be productive at least to move away, but he also knew that neither one of them would move. The exhaustion laid heavily on Robin’s bones. He reached up with his free, clean, hand and touched where the bruising would be. There weren’t any whispers of love, just a brief peck on the lips before Robin fell into blissful sleep.

 

*

 

Much had already begun to pack up camp, muttering the entire time about Robin and his penchant to wander off, and Allan couldn’t bother him. Robin had a really bad habit of wandering out in the woods especially with Gisborne. Though he was rather shocked no one thought to mention how odd it was that when Robin went out wherever he went, he always chose GIsborne.

“Think he could’ve told us if they were going to go scouting again,” Much muttered.

“Well they didn’t take the horses so there is that,” Allan offered. He looked up again at the animals, counted them and decided yes there were still six steeds. “Can’t be far.”

“Like you would know, you were asleep! You were supposed to keep watch!” Much berated him. Allan popped up again, he held up a finger.

“Okay, I’m not trying to be funny or nothing, but that brings up a good point. You think anything is going on between them?” He was saved from any answer lobbed at my via the murderous looks from Much (and Kate) by the stumbling and rather unkept appearances of Robin and Gisborne crashing through the brush. 

**Author's Note:**

> Now, whether or not it follows the rest of the show to canon... well I will leave it up to your angst meter. For me if Guy and Robin do die, when Robin goes Guy and Marian are chilling in to forest waiting to take him to heaven.


End file.
